


When the Saviour Saves Himself

by LokianaWinchester



Series: Jesus Christ Superstar [4]
Category: Jesus Christ Superstar - All Media Types
Genre: Aesthetic Porn, Angst, But also, Everybody Lives, F/M, Fix It Fic, Fluff, Heavy Angst, M/M, Multi, Soft Porn, Throuple, Very applicable to that, ambiguous timeline, an iconique trope, based on Ola Salo's swedish JCS Production of 2014, because the pain is lessened, it's not metal modern AU like in the production but more 33AD, the best kinda porn, there is still
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 10:36:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14187036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LokianaWinchester/pseuds/LokianaWinchester
Summary: What if Judas did not betray Jesus?





	When the Saviour Saves Himself

People were beginning to expect more of him than he could give.

Jesus was willing to try, it was what he did; try to spread hope, try to do good, try to improve the state this world was in.

And yet it never seemed to be enough. He was not sure if he was indeed God’s son, or if the talk among the people had only influenced him this much already, but he knew he wanted change. Not in the form of a rebellion, a riot, but peaceful change.

People should see each other as equals, they should respect and love each other. Jesus was willing to give everything, if it meant that the situation, however dicey it seemed now, would have a positive outcome.

But the pressure was building from all sides. Jesus knew that snapping and being rude would not help in any way, but everything was testing his limits these days.

There was, for one, the pressure from the people. It was there all the time, it never ceased, even if Jesus was completely alone, not a single other human being with him. He knew they had expectations but how could he fulfil them? How could he do those things they wanted from him? He barely had control over anything, how could they put him on this pedestal and worship him? Most of them had not even met him in person, how should thy know he was special?

Then there was the pressure from above, because as much as Jesus liked denying it, he felt that he was different from those other supposed Messiah’s. As much as he liked pretending that he was just another man trying to do good, sometimes he felt that he was more. More than just a man, maybe more than just human, when in reality this was all he wanted, to be a regular man, making his living, peacefully, and yet he could not. Each time he was thinking about giving up on this mission, his conscience forbid it, his mind seemingly yearning for two lives at the same time: The one that he was leading, preaching, going from town to town, spreading hope because he could. And the other, settling down, maybe farming, or opening his own carpenter shop. Settling down with somebody to love, who loved him back, peacefully, unconditionally.

Judas. Not only did Jesus want his quiet life with him, but Judas was also the third influence that put enormous pressure on him. Jesus knew that Judas wanted to do good, just as badly if not more than himself. Only it did not come to him as naturally as it did to Jesus.

Judas wanted peace, Jesus knew that, and he tried to keep it. Jesus knew, even though Judas tried to do it in secret, that Judas tried to keep him from stressful situations, big crowds, begging strangers. Judas only wanted to help him. But his temperament was adding to Jesus’ frustration. Judas was starting to think he knew better than Jesus what to do and what not to do.

They used to have quiet evenings by the fire, talking about how they would change the world for the better. They just fit together, their dynamic worked. 

-

How clearly Jesus remembered them trying to be friends and friends only. It had worked for about a year but eventually, after they had both had too much wine, neither of them possessed enough self-control to hold back any longer. It started with light touches, sitting next to each other, thighs touching, then Jesus leant in and after one terrifying moment, when Judas tensed up, he allowed Jesus to melt into his side, then take his hand, then play with his hair. Judas had been so responsive, it was late at night, the other apostles were retreating to their tents but Judas made no move to do the same, but simply sat there and held on to Jesus, looking at him with those expressive eyes, that made Jesus’ insides clench with desire. Finally Jesus took his hand, caressing it softly, and led Judas to his tent. 

“Are you sure?” Judas asked when Jesus pulled him close. Jesus was able to feel the warmth radiating off Judas, see his eyes grow dark with want. 

“Yes,” Jesus breathed, barely more than an exhaled puff of hot air.

He had not been sure how Judas would react, but now that their lips were pressed together and Jesus’ knees buckled and his heart beat wildly in his chest as Judas fisted his right hand in his hair and pressed his left hand to the small of his back, Jesus was sure he had made the right moves. He was sure of his feelings for Judas; he loved him.

As it turned out Judas loved him too. The first weeks of their relationship had been a flurry of emotions, Jesus felt safe, wanted, at peace when he was with Judas. When want and desire ran through their veins, when Judas showed Jesus just how much he loved him, when Jesus lost himself in the sensation finally – finally – being able to touch Judas all he wanted, he could forget about his problems, forget about the fate of the world and even forget about God.

But even though the thrill of loving Judas never faded, it became harder and harder to get his supposed fate out of his mind.

-

So the more the pressure from the other sides grew, the more Judas simply caring made him feel stressed as well. He knew he could not go much longer without making a terrible mistake.

And then he made it and was not even aware.

Mary did not barge into his life, like Judas had, with intensity and fiery personality. Mary was softer, more reasonable. She was easy to get along with and for a while Jesus did just that. But he soon realised that he felt more for Mary. It was gentle attraction, that had found its way into his heart, not burning desire, as it had been with Judas.

Of course it did not go unnoticed by Judas. Jesus knew Judas was trying to be open and it was not as if he and Mary were doing anything more than talking softly late in the night, but he sensed that Judas was becoming irritated; it showed in the way his eyebrows knit together whenever he stared intensely at Jesus when he thought he would not notice. It showed in the way Judas scowled at Mary, whenever she was talking at all. It showed in the way his fingernails were bitten and the skin on his fingers irritated from fidgeting. And it showed in the way Judas gripped Jesus tight when he kissed him, the way he almost ripped his clothes off, the way he pushed into Jesus just a moment too early, thrust his hips just a bit too abruptly, so that Jesus would feel him the next day. And it showed in the way Judas would go all gooey afterwards, snuggling close to Jesus, as if in apology. Jesus knew Judas thought he had no real claim to Jesus, he got possessive and rough and he felt bad for it; Judas was still so good but he was confused and irritable. What broke Jesus’ heart was that Judas did not know how much of a claim he actually had on Jesus.

“I love you,” Judas insisted, and Jesus knew it to be true.

“I love you,” Jesus would reply, and see the doubt and sadness in Judas’ eyes before they could be hidden away.

-

It was difficult to acknowledge that he did not exclusively love Judas, but Mary already was a big part of his life. So nothing had to change, Jesus told himself.

But something did change. Mary gave Jesus something Judas had not been able to provide; tenderness. A more peaceful version of Judas’ stormy, passionate love.

The pressure continued to build, Mary just made it easier for him to endure it, she also made him less reactive to Judas’ outbursts, warning him, trying to stop him from what he thought would bring Jesus’ end. The concerning thing was that Jesus did not think he was wrong, he just did not know how to change anything. His life, the people around him, everything was moving too fast and Jesus could not keep up. But when Judas began snapping at Mary, he had overstepped a line and Jesus came to her defence. Like so often when Judas knew he was in the wrong, he came back immediately, apologetically and Jesus let him, but they both knew that something had just happened, that would not so easily leave their minds.

They went to Jerusalem, his apostles had been pressuring for months and the people eagerly awaited him – no, not him – the messiah. Should a messiah not feel comfortable in his role? Jesus was anything but comfortable, day and night he found himself surrounded by strangers, postulating his attention. He missed Judas, they barely found a second for themselves and Judas was constantly tense and distracted. He craved Mary, she treated him exactly as he wanted to be treated, she soothed him and he knew that she loved him, as he did her. But Jesus knew that she also had a fierce side to her, a protective side.

When Jesus saw what was going on in the temple, a market, a thriving ecosystem of crooks, thieves and money-hungry merchants, all of the irritation that had been beginning to show to his close friends, erupted. He screamed, flipped tables, destroyed stalls. This was not how a temple should work.

“My temple should be a house of prayer!” He exclaimed, emptying the money-filled bag of a cloth trader onto the dusty ground. He did not even hesitate and correct him; it frightened him when he realised, the words ‘my temple’ had left his lips. It was not his, how could it be? It was God’s temple and clearly every god-fearing and respectful man would do the same as him.

“But you have made it a den of thieves!” Tears were forming in his eyes, why did he have to be the one to clean up this mess? He did not know what compelled him to this drastic action but with a start he realized that he would die for this cause, for the exact same cause that he had sworn to live for: to make the world better.

He did not want to die.

Everything in him resented the thought; what would come after? He still had so much to do, so much to say, so much to feel.

“Get out” It was more a wail than it was a scream as powerful as he would have liked but somehow the chaos had died down, the people, perplexed, had fallen silent, and they went. They heard  
his weakened cry and they went away. Tears started rolling down Jesus’ cheeks.

“My time is almost through,” he muttered to himself. He knew, one way or the other it was true.

“Little left to do,” this was less a question of what he wanted to do than it was of what he could do, these were the limits of his energy, he could not do anymore. What he had started three years ago, because he had felt the urge to, because he suddenly needed to have change, it clearly did not work out like he had imagined it to. These years had taken their toll on him, he felt weak, used, three years felt like 30, every minute of his life an eternity.

Jesus did not know how long he simply sat on the ground but it was silent around him, for the first time in days.

Until it was not. People crawled in around him, they wanted to be healed, helped, magically freed of their miserable lives. How little did they know that Jesus himself wanted the exact same thing.

He did his best to keep them away from himself, the last days had overwhelmed him, he felt the panic rising in his chest; he needed to get out.

Again, tears welled up in his eyes, his voice had a desperate tone.

“Don’t crowd me” Please!

But similarly to the earlier instance, he had to get loud; Jesus was exhausted, he needed to sleep, needed peace and quiet, but he managed to gather up the rest of his energy and screamed out in a bout of desperation.

The people fled. He was once again alone.

But then Mary was there and she helped him up and back to their lodging. He leaned on her heavily and drifted off.

He could not have been sleeping long, because he still felt exhausted and tired and Mary had barely moved, but she was muttering under her breath.

“I love him so.” She trailed off then, brushing a hand through his hair as he opened his eyes. Half sitting up, Jesus gave into the temptation that had been plaguing him for weeks. He took one of her hands into his own and rested the fingertips of his other on her cheek. Mary hesitated, but leant into the touch, leant closer to Jesus as he brought their faces within inches of one another. It was Jesus who finally initiated the kiss. It was soft, chaste and yet firm, Jesus wanted to deepen the kiss, drove his fingers into her hair and opened his lips slightly against hers. Just as she was about to reciprocate, they were torn apart, quite literally.

Judas, who had apparently come in search of Jesus, stood above them, furious. Jesus knew that this time it was him, who had made the mistake. Judas said nothing, which made it even worse; Jesus could have dealt with screaming or cursing or even physical violence, but the silence and the betrayed and wounded look in Judas’ eyes was driving him insane.

Then Judas gripped his collar and pulled him close, so that his face was blurry in Jesus’ vision. Instinctively Jesus’ arms shot up to put some distance between them, but Judas had considerable strength, tried to pull him into a kiss, which Jesus would not have been able to reciprocate.

For the third time that day Jesus took drastic measures, freeing his right hand from its grip on Judas’ shirt and slapping him across his cheek hard.

Judas froze. Fell to his knees. Shot one desperately apologetic glance at Jesus before he buried his face in his hands and let out a choked sob.

Jesus looked at his hand, he had screamed before, yes, not only at those at the temple or the lepers, he had screamed at his apostles, not something he was proud of, but a happenstance that resulted from the unbelievable pressure weighing down on him. But never, never had he laid a hand on another. His hand still looked the same as ever but Jesus felt the pain that the slap had caused Judas, echoing in his own bones, his own skin stung and his palm felt weirdly numb; as if it had disconnected from his body entirely. Jesus could not take this, he stormed out, Mary following closely after. They went to the backyard, a bench was sitting under a tree and at this quiet hour everything seemed tranquil, as if made to soothe Jesus specially. He heard footsteps hastily leaving the building, running down the street; Judas.

He leaned back; he would deal with this in the morning. As he was dozing off, Mary gripped his arm, speaking softly.

“Jesus, Jesus please stay awake. I have a bad feeling about Judas”

Jesus kept his eyes closed; still bitter about everything that he and Judas had recently messed up.

“Don’t we all?” he sighed.

“No, not like that,” Mary shot back. “Hey, look at me, I think he’s about to get in trouble.”

Lazily Jesus opened his eyes and met a side of Mary that was new to him; he had known that she was fierce, but the fire that burned in her eyes, it reminded him of Judas and made his aching heart clench.

“Look, I know he doesn’t like me,” Mary continued, “but I also know that he loves you more than anything. And that you feel the same way.”

She hesitated, sadness in her eyes. Jesus wanted to protest, opening his mouth, but Mary cut him off.

“I know it’s the truth, you don’t have to pretend. I know that there is something between us” she gently took his hand between hers, caressing it, “But right now Judas needs us. He needs you, and  
he needs to see that you really do love him. I know you do, stop trying to deny it.”

Jesus shook his head vehemently.

“He hurt me.”

“And you hurt him. I know you both have problems with each other but this might be what he meant when he was talking about your end and destruction”

Jesus looked in her eyes and saw real concern. For Judas, the man he loved. Still loved, after all they had been through. He sprang to his feet, pulling Mary up with him. They exchanged one more meaningful glance before Mary broke into a sprint, Jesus could barely keep up with.

Jesus was not sure how Mary knew where to go, but sure enough in less than fifteen minutes, Jesus could make out Judas’ form striding hastily towards the end of a street, about to cut a sharp corner as if he was trying to lose something that was chasing him. And maybe he was.

Mary had fallen back. Now that they were within shouting distance she stayed behind Jesus as if she was afraid.

“Judas!” No reaction.

Jesus put all his energy into a last sprint, until he was an arm’s length from Judas.

“Please” 

He was breathing heavily, sweat trickled down his temple, his voice was barely more than a coarse whisper.

Judas turned around. He had clearly cried.

Jesus wanted to reach out, pull him close, wrap his arms around him, inhale his scent, but he no longer knew what he was allowed to do; what would set Judas off on an even more self-destructive path.

Judas looked at him expectantly, slightly taken aback, as if he had not expected Jesus to follow him. As if he still did not believe how much Jesus cared. And Jesus realized it was him, who had to speak, because Judas did not think he was worth it, after all this time he still doubted himself.

“I am sorry”

The words came out choked, too weak for all the power they carried.

“I am sorry,” he repeated. “I really am, and you were right"

Judas' eyes widened in surprise; Jesus knew he had said the right thing. And Judas had been right. He had known this would not end well and that Jesus would not get out of this easily.

“You knew me when I lost sight of myself. I should have talked to you, I'm so sorry"

Anxiety clawed coldly at his stomach, making him sick. Was he too late? Had he hurt Judas beyond repair. He should not have kissed Mary, how had temptation won him over?

Jesus' heart was racing, his breathing going fast, he felt like crying but tears were not coming.

Judas was silent for a long time. When he finally spoke, it was controlled, visibly held back.

“I am sorry as well. But I don't know what else to do!” His voice gained a desperate edge.

“How could you, Jesus?” He did not need to specify, maybe he could not.

Jesus knew all that was implied. Taking on too much responsibility, shutting Judas out, being constantly exhausted and neglecting his own health, kissing Mary. "I can only tell you how sorry I am, Judas. Please, if you could do one thing for me, give me another chance. It's not easy, I know, but I promise you -" his voice broke; Judas was turning away. Jesus was still not sure how Judas would react, but he had to take the risk. His hand shot out and he got a hold of Judas' wrist. Of all things, Jesus noticed Judas' racing heartbeat under his fingertips as Judas pulled and tried to wind out of his grip.

"Please"

Judas finally stopped his attempts at freeing his hand.

"Just tell me why I don't mean enough to you," Judas demanded.

Jesus' breath caught in his throat.

"I - you don't - Judas." Finally Judas looked in his eyes.

"I love you" The words came out shakily, like Jesus was out of practice saying them. But Judas' reaction was no different from his usual one. Doubt flashed across his features, sadness.

Then: "If only you did. I want nothing more, but clearly your heart is elsewhere."

"I love you, Judas. Please believe me, if you just - please let me make it up to you, -"

A snort. Judas averted his eyes, clenched his fist and pulled it out of Jesus' grip. Turned.

"Judas"

Jesus fell to his knees, exhausted and worn out, giving up. Judas was set on his path and Jesus knew there was virtually nothing he could do now.

"Judas!" Mary's voice cut through his pain. She ran past him and placed himself in front of Judas, blocking his way.

"Judas, I know that you don't like me and I'm sorry, I wish we could get along better. But even though I don't know you too well, I know Jesus - no don't look like this, please. I get you're angry,  
but hear me out!"

Her voice was harder, louder, furious, she was trying to change something that Jesus could not. He was sitting, propped up on the side of a house, tears quietly streaming down his face, collecting in his beard, making it damp. He could not care less, the two people he loved were glaring each other down and anxiety was ripping through his guts.

"I know him, Judas and if there is any apparent thing about Jesus it is that he loves you. I know he loves everybody deep down and he doesn't believe in bad people but he treasures you more than anything. You keep him grounded, I mean look at him, he is a mess and I'm not blaming that on you, don't think that, but he is a mess because you both made mistakes that lead you here and now he is at his limits and he needs you! And also I know he has feelings for me, he wouldn't have kissed me otherwise and I also kind of love him, you know, it's hard not to, he's so lovable and he needs it but I see in your eyes that you miss him dearly and I don't think I can compete with you and also I am sorry, Judas, that I kissed him I'm sorry, it shouldn't have happened, I already knew he loved you and I still hoped, but I feel bad and I want to fix it and please Judas just listen to him, come back to our quarters and please just - He will have an explanation -"

Mary stopped talking, she had looked at her feet, talking rapidly about her feelings, firing sentence after sentence in an emotional ramble but now she looked at Judas, but Judas did not look at her. Watching the two of them, Jesus had noticed that Judas had stopped paying attention to her when she had confirmed that Jesus loved him. His gaze had shifted from stubborn to vulnerable within seconds, slowly averting his eyes from Mary, staring at Jesus incredulously and with unspeakable passion written across his features.

Now that she was looking up and at Judas again, she waited, tensely, for his response. His lips moved, but Jesus could not make out the words. Mary’s shoulders sagged in relief the second, Judas moved rapidly towards Jesus, going down on one knee, keeping the other foot firmly on the ground for leverage and grabbed the front of Jesus’ shirt, pulling him close. Mere centimetres separated them and Judas’ face went from disbelieving to desperate.

“Is she right? Did she say the truth? Do you -” he hesitated. “Do you love me?”

“Yes” left Jesus’ lips, barely more than a whisper, but Judas’ reaction was immediate. He hauled Jesus to his feet, slamming him into the wall behind him, pinning his shoulders to the cold stone, leaning in close, his expression unreadable, even for Jesus.

“Then why did I never believe it? Why could I never believe it?”

Jesus had no answer for that, but he could not opt to stay silent.

“I do, Judas, I always have, I told you I did and I’m sorry I’m so sorry –“ He wanted to continue and tell Judas that he was sorry for not getting anything across correctly, how had that happened?  
But he could not continue speaking, tears were rolling down his cheeks, sobs were choking him up, he would surely collapse, did not Judas hold him upright, and suddenly Judas’ expression shifted back to readable. Heartbreak, regret.

When Judas’ grip on his shoulders loosened, Jesus nearly broke down, but Judas was still there, holding him up, pulling him close, squeezing Jesus so tightly to his chest that he thought he might combust from the pressure. Together they ended up on the ground, Jesus’ chest heaving against Judas’, his face buried in Judas’ silky hair, inhaling his scent.

Slowly Jesus calmed down, lifted his head, looking over Judas’ shoulder at Mary. She was crying as well.

“Please” Jesus murmured against Judas’ neck, inhaling once more, begging like he had countless times before that day, “Please, come with us, come back to the shelter. I need you to understand. Please.”

For what felt like an eternity, Judas did not move. Jesus drew back to look at him. Silent tears streamed down his face and all Jesus wanted to do was dry them. The desire to never see Judas cry again surpassed any desire Jesus had ever felt to better the world, to sacrifice himself for the good in the world. He realised there and then that he would never do that because if this was what negligence and disagreements did to Judas, what would happen if Jesus did in fact die?

Finally Judas nodded, weakly but confidently.

-

Back at the room they practically collapsed on top of one another. Jesus explained. He knew he would not get away without doing so. He explained about the pressure that had driven him to do things he was not proud of, chase fame, neglect loved ones. He apologised for being distant, for feeling pressured by him, for kissing Mary. He also apologised to Mary. She did not deserve to be pulled into his problems, but she was as understanding and caring as ever and Jesus knew that somehow everything would work itself out.

“I love you” Jesus told Judas, time after time. Mary was happy for them but Jesus knew she was heartbroken. They slept for a few hours, they were exhausted. When Mary left the next morning, to buy some bread and fetch some water, Judas brought up what they had barely talked about.

“You really love her, don’t you?”

Jesus took a deep breath. He did not think, Judas would leave again but he still did under no circumstance want to misstep.

“I do. I know you don’t like her and I’m sorry but I love her and I can’t deny it.”

Judas’ expression softened.

“It’s not that I don’t like her. I just –“, he sighed. “I didn’t like you not liking me anymore,” he admitted quietly.

Jesus wanted to protest, explain himself, but Judas cut him off.

“I don’t think that anymore. Don’t hold yourself back on my behalf. She loves you, she said so. To me. I don’t think that was easy for her, and I know how she feels, so please don’t ruin anything because of me.”

Jesus swallowed. He was not sure what to say, so he simply leaned into Judas’ side and relished the warmth and security that he radiated.

After some time he steadied himself.

“I will try”

It was a promise.

-

They stayed at their shelter for one more day, Jesus knew he had uncomfortable tasks before him. Telling the apostles that he could not continue like he had, would be difficult, but he would manage.

Judas made arrangements with some old acquaintances that owned a small house and some land, that was currently without an owner and available for purchase.

The only settlement was miles away and Jesus felt relaxed just thinking about it. It would not be easy, building a life from scratch after spending virtually all their money on the land and three healthy goats, but they would manage.

It took two weeks until Judas told Jesus he loved him. Two very long and tiring weeks, that were, however, more rewarding than his last three years. He had something to show for himself. The apostles’ reaction to his declaration had been very mixed. From quietly accepting and supportive to irritated and almost violent everything had been represented.

Still now, two weeks later, Jesus’ ears echoed with choruses of “How can you throw it away? Everything!”, “I always knew you were a fraud, just like the rest of them”, “What are you going to do now? Heal goats?” and “You could have saved us, you could have freed us!”

He had regrets, surely anybody would have those, if they were standing in his shoes. But the joy he felt when he saw Judas standing in the doorway to the house, their house, made all of those regrets crumble and vanish. Mary’s unrestrained laughter as one of the goats repeatedly head-butted her thigh, reminded him of why he had made his decision. But now those two weeks were over and Jesus started getting used to a new routine. He no longer woke up to masses of people demanding his help, but to his two loved ones rustling around the house.

Jesus had not stopped telling Judas how much he meant to him. Day after day he saw less of the crippling doubt crossing Judas’ features, but it was replaced by untamed adoration. To touch Judas again was a gift greater than what Jesus felt he deserved, which was why he treated it with such gentleness, such care. 

The first time Mary had gone to the market in the morning and Judas was still snoring lightly beside him, Jesus propped himself up on one elbow and began caressing every inch of Judas’ skin he could reach. He traced the veins in his forearm, kissed his collarbone, stroked his fingers carefully through the surprisingly soft hair. Judas slowly woke up and pressed himself closer to Jesus, bringing one hand up to cup Jesus’ cheek and pull him down into a languid kiss. Jesus shifted his weight so that he no longer rested on his side next to Judas, but rather laid on top of him, his right leg pressing between Judas’ and up against his crotch, which evoked a choked moan from Judas. Jesus started kissing Judas’ neck, sucking and biting the skin there, then caressing it when it turned purple and tender, while he moved his leg rhythmically against Judas’ erection. Slowly Jesus worked his way towards the lightly stubbled jaw, before he captured Judas’ lips in an open mouthed kiss.

Judas used his considerable strength to flip them over so that in a matter of seconds he was towering above him, pupils blown wide, lips swollen, hair tousled. The view alone made Jesus shiver, but then Judas started kissing him earnestly, ghosted fingers over his nipples, caressing, teasing, then further down, further down and Jesus lost himself in sensations he had thought lost to him only days before.

Afterwards Judas went quiet, nestled himself into Jesus’ side, clung to him as if he was afraid Jesus would vanish into thin air as soon as they stopped touching. After their breathing had slowed down, he leaned over to Jesus, kissing him, chastely, before establishing eye contact.

“I love you,” Judas eventually said and his entire face lit up.

“I love you, Jesus. There is nothing and nobody I love more. I love you and I am beyond grateful that you came after me.” His expression darkened.

“I was going to betray you. I was on the way to the high priests. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I even considered doing it.”

Jesus pulled him impossibly closer.

“I know. I forgive you,” he whispered into Judas’ hair.

-

Mary expected nothing of him, Jesus knew that, and yet she deserved the world. Jesus admired her calm reaction to him and Judas making amends, growing closer than they had ever been before. He loved Mary just as much as Judas and he made sure to remind her equally as often; his love for her however was different from what he had with Judas. Newer, less comfortable but all the more exciting. Small touches were enough to set him off, the brush of fingertips against fingertips, a peck on the cheek here, a hand laid gently on a lower back. 

Their first kiss had admittedly not gone over well, but Jesus made sure to make up for it. Mary’s kisses were soft until they weren’t; as if a switch was flipped, she went from chaste pecks to pressing herself up against him, fisting her hands in his hair with admirable vigour and strength. Jesus’ knees went weak with need, his head dizzy with arousal. And when a short while later, he grabbed her hips, moans spilling over her lips as she frantically tugged on his hair while he sucked one of her nipples into his mouth, circling his tongue around the hardened bud, when they came apart in unison, sighs and cries of pleasure echoing in the small space that was their home, Jesus knew he had succeeded. 

He had doubted himself; loving two people always seemed like such a feat, Jesus knew, he had tried to love millions. But love should not come as a duty, but as a reward, and what a reward it was, to love and be loved by two souls.

-

Jesus had been worried about Judas. He had shown nothing but reluctance and dislike towards Mary, but even while still in Jerusalem, they had warmed up to each other, easy banter and jokes going back and forth between them after a week on their farm. They had started out talking about Jesus, a safe topic they had both been comfortable with, as they grew closer, they discovered similarities, parallels in their lives that went far beyond their mutual acquaintance with Jesus.

The first time Jesus saw them kissing, he wanted to call them for supper, but stopped in his tracks when he saw Judas crowding himself against Mary whose back was pressed against the olive tree in their yard. Judas was lovingly cradling Mary’s face between his hands, kissing her with such intense concentration and such precision, that Jesus was sure he knew how Mary would feel.

Seeing the man he loved kiss the woman he loved, gave Jesus immense pleasure, he had not expected it to feel this good. His heart was rejoicing, he slowly retreated back into the house and had supper by himself.

Mary and Judas joined him a while later, both looking dishevelled but utterly happy, hand in hand.

That night Jesus felt like he was melting, surrounded by the heat of sweating bodies, moving together as one, pleasure indescribable, infinitely amplified by the love between them, confessions flowing from their lips freely. Jesus felt the happiness radiating from his loved ones, like he felt their lips on his skin and their skin under his fingertips. He gave, and for the first time in what felt a lifetime, he got back what he gave, twofold.

-

They made a living. It was not much, certainly not as much as he had made as ‘the messiah’ simply by being, preaching, travelling.

Jesus discovered what it meant to be himself, discovered an identity that was not just a definition of godsend. He was a farmer; he had never done that kind of work before but he would not give in before new challenges. He was a carpenter; taking up his earlier profession to make most of their furniture provided him with a sense of security, halt, a connection to who he had once been. 

And he was a lover; something he had rarely been before. He flourished in his roles and so did Judas and Mary. Together they achieved the most, sure, there were hard times and difficult  
decisions to make but those were, like anything else, better resolved together.

Time had passed and Jesus slowly began leaving their past behind himself. He did not try to deny or forget it, but the present was more important to them and it was treating them far better.

-

When Judas returned home one day, three years after Jesus’ fateful decision, from the market in town and stayed eerily quiet, Jesus did not know what to expect; nothing had made Judas so quiet since he had gone to betray Jesus.

Mary took Jesus aside.

“He’ll talk to us when he feels ready,” and like so often, she had told the truth.

There was a rumour going round, of a messiah who was healing people and talking about the good in the world. A rumour of somebody who moved the crowds, who stood up to the romans.

Judas told this, late at night, a night in which none of them should sleep. Mary gripped Jesus’ hand tightly and did not let go until the first rays of the rising sun shone onto her seemingly still form, while Judas slung his arm around Jesus’ waist, keeping him close, as if he was afraid somebody could take Jesus from him. They spoke little of the news in the following days, until a week later Judas returned from the market again, looking pale and sick.

“They killed him. They killed him, Jesus! He became too powerful for the Romans, they crucified him. This could have been –“ A sob wrecked Judas’ voice. He crossed the distance between them, dropped the bag with supplies he had bought, and took Jesus’ face between his hands.

“That could have been you,” he whispered, a heartbroken expression written across his face. Jesus could hear Mary stifle a sob.

“I’m sorry”

Jesus resented that Judas still felt bad, that Judas still harboured regret in his heart, over what had happened years ago.

“It wouldn’t have been your fault,” Jesus replied softly and pulled Judas into a hug.

“Why do you always forgive me?” Judas asked, and Jesus frowned, pulling back.

“I love you”

Kissing Judas had not lost its edge or thrill, it was always a unique experience. Mary shuffled closer, Judas hugged her to his side with one arm. His other hand never left Jesus’ cheek, deepening  
the kiss.

When they broke apart, Jesus could not believe how happy he was with the family he had. Judas, his cornerstone, the foundation of his being. Mary, his framework, keeping him together and sane, and lastly his gaze shifted downwards to where Mary’s stomach showed a distinct swell.

And once again, Jesus reminded himself that this, his life, was all he could ever have wished for and so much more.

**Author's Note:**

> Hang out with me on [tumblr](https://lokianawinchester.tumblr.com/) or look at my Jesus posts on [my side blog](https://this-broken-man.tumblr.com/) and send me prompts!


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